


A Slip of the Finger

by lornesgoldenhair



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-15
Updated: 2015-06-15
Packaged: 2018-04-04 13:43:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4139868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lornesgoldenhair/pseuds/lornesgoldenhair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor has programmed the wrong co-ordinates again and the TARDIS takes Clara and him to a more primitive world than they anticipated. One with a fertility ritual they must participate in. M for sexiness. Absolute PWP. Whouffaldi.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Slip of the Finger

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry. This fic has been kicking around my laptop for months because its just so flipping weird and I didn't know what to do with the thing. So I decided to just post it and be done with. I have no idea what was going on in my head when I wrote it.

‘Let’s visit a planet., Clara,’ Clara said sarcastically, ‘Let’s visit a lovely planet full of primitive civilisations with weird cultures and spend the weekend locked in a dirty little cell,’ she wriggled her shoulders against the secure wrist bindings that held her hands at her back as she walked. Behind her the monstrously tall, bulky and green skinned alien gave her a nudge between the shoulder blades and grunted at her.

‘Yes, I’m moving,’ she grumbled, ‘Moving towards the lovely grimy cell you have lined up for us.’

‘Do be quiet Clara, it’s not as if he can understand English,’ the Doctor said tiredly from beside her where he too was bound and being encouraged forcefully down the sloped and dusty incline to the prison.

‘No but _you_ can,’ she shot back at him. ‘And that’s what matters.’

‘Clara…’

‘Why can’t you ever get the date right?’ she snapped, ‘You’re two hundred years out. Not two days or two weeks, _two hundred years_. Two hundred years short of our destination… which is long enough for this lot to have modernised significantly rather than still be lumbering about poking each other with sticks,’ she nodded at the long spear her guard was carrying.

‘It was a slip of the finger,’ the Doctor muttered, ‘A co-ordinate out.’

‘Oh shut up. Your _slippy_ fingers are always _slipping_. I think you oil them deliberately.’

They continued their trudge but Clara couldn’t maintain her silence long.

‘Two hundred years in the future this is an oasis of relaxation,’ she said, ‘Two hundred years in the future they have a nice tourist industry going with pools and alcoholic beverages and spas. Currently they have none of those things, Doctor.’

‘I’m aware of this.’

‘I just thought I’d remind you that so far this isn’t the trip I was expecting as a welcome aboard the TARDIS gift.’

He sighed.

‘I’m more than a little disappointed,’ she said.

‘Clara, shut up,’ the irritation was surfacing in his voice now and she grinned to herself. If she had to have a lousy couple of days locked up he could have a lousy couple of days with her. She’d make him feel thoroughly rotten, guilty and annoyed all at the same time. ‘It was a mistake,’ he continued, ‘An honest mistake,’ he sounded a bit miserable.

Clara decided not to look at him unless she felt bad. He could do that to her fairly easily, with those eyes. Damned Time Lord.

‘I’m trying to rectify it,’ he said.

‘Hmmph… looks like it…’

‘I am, I just… well the situation seems to be a little more complicated than I first thought.’

Clara did look round at him them, just as they came to a halt before the prison door. At least what she assumed was the prison. It was actually a little straw hut with a conical roof and very little actual security other than some rope ties on the doors and another four guards who looked like those standing behind them, huge and muscular and green.

‘Complicated how?’ Clara said warily.

‘Umm…’

‘Umm?’ she narrowed her eyes at him. Next to him his guard began grunting in the strange alien language she had heard a few times since landing on the planet. She wished they’d left the TARDIS translation matrix on but _he_ had assured her the inhabitants had all learned Sprotrophian, a language he was fluent in, and the TARDIS wanted to do a repair cycle, so he turned it off. She kicked herself for believing him _again_ , and it wasn’t until much later when they were in trouble that he admitted that actually they were speaking something else and he didn’t have much of a clue.

But at first it hadn’t seemed too disastrous. When they had arrived the locals had initially seemed quite welcoming and invited them to join them for some sort of festival. The Doctor had gleamed that they were celebrating the eclipse of their double sun although he didn’t know enough of their language to fully understand the significance of the various dances and activities going on around them. Still the aliens had seated them on a plush bower and brought the pair of them food and flowers and made them welcome and comfortable while performing their theatrics in front of them. So far so good, she had almost forgiven him for missing the spa trip, after all it wasn’t every day you stumbled across a double eclipse.

Then it had all turned a bit sour. The moons passed over the suns and the world sank into a pleasant darkness lit by torches and fires. Under that shroud the dances were completed and the locals turned in anticipation to Clara and the Doctor who unfortunately still didn’t know enough language to work out what exactly was expected. They looked back rather blankly at the aliens and quickly the aliens grew upset and then downright angry and they were trussed up and propelled towards the prison.

The Doctor wouldn’t look Clara in the eye. She recognised this sign.

‘What is it?’ she sighed resignedly.

‘Well….’

The guard behind the Doctor suddenly severed his bindings and for the briefest second Clara thought they were being released before her sense of reality kicked in, they never just got released from these situations. Her own guard followed suite and then the straw door in front of them was opened wide and both of them pushed inside. It swung shut with a bang and then a little viewing hatch flicked open and a broad alien face glared in at them. It grunted. The Doctor passed his hand over his face in something close to despair and glanced behind Clara who quickly turned and saw what he had seen.

‘What the…?’ she asked.

He made a groan.

‘Explain. Right now,’ Clara said.

‘The festival we attended…’

‘Yes?’

‘We were the guests of honour…’

‘We were?’

‘The Gods sent us to bless them.’

‘They did?’ she said doubtfully.

‘Well the TARDIS deposited us yes, and the locals took that as a sign and they… well they rejoiced and there was dancing and…’ he waved his hands.

‘And…’

His hands dropped. ‘And then they expected us to return the favour somehow and bestow our blessing on their land, except we didn’t, we were very rude.’

‘Oh…’ Clara thought for a moment, ‘I suppose we did eat their food and lie about being spoiled for hours.’

‘Quite.’

‘So they’re unhappy with us. How do we make it up to them?’

‘We need to bless their land.’

‘Right… fair enough… how?’

The Doctor looked at her quickly, ‘Umm.’

‘Back with the umm again I don’t like it when you do that. What are you umming about?’

‘Well the festival was a very specific one,’ he said.

‘Yes?’ She saw him take a deep breath and sort of inwardly gurn.

‘It’s a fertility festival, a sort of harvest festival if you like,’ he said rapidly.

‘Doctor…?’ that wary note back in her voice.

‘We need to….’ He paused trying to find the right words, ‘We need to evoke the fertility of the land by…’

‘By…’

‘By… performing…’

‘Performing what? Some sort of ritual? A fertility dance? What?’

‘An act of reproduction,’ he said quietly. Very quietly.

Clara went very, very still and silent. He looked up at her briefly and saw her glaring at him so he looked away again and swallowed. At last she cleared her throat and in a business like tone addressed the issue.

‘An act of reproduction? Well that’s just not… You mean they want us to… you know…’

‘Yes.’

‘Well we can’t!’ she squealed, losing her cool.

‘No,’ he said unconvincingly.

‘Just tell them no.’

‘I did.’

‘And…?’

‘And they said there were other options.’

‘Good! See! What other options?’ she relaxed a little. He was doing this so deliberately, he’d known all along there were other options he was just messing with her.

‘Well you being the female, the true giver of life in their culture…. Your blessing is what is most vital so they would agree to… you performing the act with one of them instead.’ He hopped out of her reach when he saw her expression.

‘What!?’

The Doctor nodded towards the door. Clara looked at the alien at the viewing hatch and gulped.

‘Problem is you aren’t er… physically compatible,’ The Doctor said.

‘That isn’t the problem! That’s _one_ of the problems. In general that’s the _least_ of the problems here, Doctor!’

‘Right.’

‘And the other options?’ Clara asked.

‘Execution. For both of us. Our blood will fertilise the earth as a ritual sacrifice.’

That stopped her in her tracks a bit.

‘Oh.’

‘Oh.’

‘Really?’

‘Really.’

Silence. They both stood in the hut and fiddled with their hands trying to avoid each other’s gaze. Clara looked behind her at the large bed they had both spotted on entry and began chewing her lip. She looked back at the Doctor, hovering as far as possible away from her in the tiny room. He looked agonised.

‘So what you’re saying is,’ Clara surmised, ‘Either I sleep with the orc-man out there, or one of his friends, or we die messy bloody deaths or…’

‘Or…’

‘Or we….’

‘Yes.’

‘Not much of a choice is it?’ Clara said. He glared at her from across the room, his eyebrows raising slightly.

‘Thanks a lot,’ he said.

‘Well it isn’t is it? An orc thing, certain death or…’

‘Or sleeping with me? Yes I can’t think of anything worse,’ he grumbled.

‘I didn’t mean it like that!’

‘Didn’t you? You make it sound quite literally like a fate worse than death.’

‘I didn’t mean…’

‘The Doctor folded his arms and stared at the wall, ‘You wouldn’t be complaining about it if I was still _him_ I’m sure.’

‘Still who?’

‘Him, bowtie, the other me. You’d jump at the chance then.’

‘That isn’t true.’

‘Stop lying Clara, I’m tired of you lying,’ there was a real bitterness now to his tone that she hated.

‘I am not lying! We are done with the lying! We agreed, no more lying. I know I didn’t deal the best with your… changing… but we’ve moved on, you know we have, it’s just… it’s been complicated, we’re complicated, but you know how I feel about you… you must… since Christmas, since… the Impossible man…’ Nothing in response, here she was laying herself bare and he was just standing there glowering. Clara got angry and sniped at him, ’You’re just being over sensitive.’

‘Over sensitive! Can you blame me?’ he snapped back.

The guard grunted loudly through the viewing hatch.

‘Alright, alright,’ the Doctor spat out, ‘Clara we have an hour, make your mind up.’

‘What?’

‘I said we have an hour to do this or we get executed. So make your mind up whether or not you can possibly stomach the idea of having sex with me or if you’d rather try your chances with the anatomically challenged alien on the door there.’

Clara looked back at the guard and unfortunately the Doctor saw her do it.

‘I can’t believe you’re actually contemplating that!’ he snapped.

‘I’m not I…’

‘Is it really that difficult a choice to make? Death, alien or me?’

‘No… I….’ oh it was all getting so overwrought and messy. She didn’t mean it like that, she really didn’t, she just… it was a shock, it wasn’t quite what she thought she’d be doing today and besides, besides… there were too many emotions in this tiny room. Clara felt her eyes burn.

They stood silent for another minute. The guard grunting and clicking his teeth at them and both of them listening to the angry and upset breathing of the other. They were stuck, she realised quickly, stuck in this little straw room with no weapons, a host of giant guards outside and each other.

And it was the Doctor. The man she trusted more than anyone. She glanced at him and saw a trace of hurt in his eyes, under the furrow of a very angry brow. It made her heart sting and she felt bad. And then she got annoyed at herself for feeling bad. And then she felt bad again. Oh this was horrible, she knew he cared for her, she knew this was difficult, she knew it was something she wanted to address but not like this. They’d been inching, so slowly towards making a move, towards physicality and now this situation was going to blow the whole thing out the water.

But choices were limited. What was it he had said about bad choices and still having to chose?

‘Right well I suppose we’d better get on with it then,’ she said after a while. That stopped him in the tracks of his ongoing tantrum. He was still standing with arms folded but his head turned sharply to her and his sharp blue eyes pierced her.

‘What?’ he said.

‘Only viable choice,’ Clara said. ‘Is he going to watch the whole thing?’ she indicated the guard.

‘They want to make sure we don’t change our minds, or pretend or… fake it in any way… it has to be… _successful_ for both of us,’ he said without looking at her.

Clara gawped, ‘You mean we both have to…’

‘Yes,’ he looked at the ceiling, ‘We both have to….’

‘But what if I can’t… I mean it’s a bit pressurised!’

‘You’ll be fine,’ he said.

‘What if I’m too uncomfortable with the whole thing to…’

‘I’ll get you there,’ the Doctor said calmly, suddenly looking at her, looking at her straight in the eyes. She felt a jolt of electricity and Clara stared at him.

‘You don’t know that!’ she burst out to distract from the feeling that was making her heart race.

‘I’m two thousand years old Clara. I know how to make a woman climax, even one as controlled as you are.’

Oh God.

Her cheeks burned with a mixture of anger shame and something unnamed. Now the pressure was back on her. Her mind suddenly started racing, he might know what to do but what if she couldn’t please him? He was an alien, he might work differently down there, she’d never been with a Time Lord. Could it be any more stressful? And if that wasn’t enough that guard was still hanging about. She glared at him.

‘I’ve never had an audience before,’ she said uncertainly.

‘I have,’ the Doctor muttered. Clara looked at him quickly but he wasn’t returning her gaze. She tried to hide her stunned intrigue. Oh God, he wasn’t even bothered by the audience.

‘Is this really just a practical problem you need to solve?’ she asked.

He huffed irritably at her delay. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean we are about to have sex and you’re just seeing it as a fix to a slight ‘being in prison’ problem.’

‘It’s the only way we get out alive.’

‘Yes but… well… we…. Our friendship… and… Christmas and our feelings… and…’

Her words didn’t work. Why wouldn’t her words work? Why couldn’t he see that actually this was all very complicated and she was scared of what would happen to them both if they did this. Why wouldn’t he acknowledge what both of them had been skirting around for months, that deep down their relationship was a lot more complicated than travelling companions or friends or whatever other inadequate term they labelled it with. Why couldn’t he just say… just say…

Just say what? Yes, Clara I acknowledge that we are most probably both in love with each other and this isn’t the best way to take our relationship to the next level but we really have to make love now or our heads will be removed.

No that wouldn’t work either.

At last he looked up at her. ‘Please Clara, I wish this wasn’t happening but let’s just get this done…’

Great now he was going to trample all over her feelings, he wished it wasn’t happening at all. What was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he…

‘I’m sorry if I sound blunt… I don’t think I can handle the emotions that go with it right here and now,’ he confessed softly, ‘This isn’t exactly how I wanted it to be.’

She gawped.

‘How you wanted…?’ she echoed.

And he _blushed._

Oh he’d thought about this.

She’d thought about it too. A lot. She was grateful for his words, she felt less alone.

‘Doctor?’ she said softly.

‘Hmm?’ he looked at the floor.

‘Are you a bit scared, because… I am.’

He pushed himself away from the wall and approached her, head down, before he took one of her hands and let his thumb run over the backs of her fingers gently. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘very. It’s not how it should be, and I don’t want to damage us any more than we have been already, but I don’t think we have any option. At least… I think I’d be pretty jealous if you chose the guard.’

She squeezed his hand back and gave him a tiny smile. He smiled back shyly.

Her and the Doctor and a really weird situation. They were good at this stuff.

They could do this.

‘Ok,’ she said, ‘Where do we start…?’

The Doctor closed the small gap between them and looked down into her eyes. Lifting a hand to her hair he gently stroked the stray strands behind one of her ears and cupped her face. It was an uncharacteristically tender gesture and there was something in his gaze she hadn’t seen before, or maybe so long ago she hadn’t realise what it was. She was aware of his other arm snaking around her waist and pulling her closer and of him bending slightly even as she reached up to meet him, lips parted, her eyes fluttering closed. She could feel his breath on her mouth.

A thundering from the door behind them and Clara’s eyes snapped open in time to see the Doctor curse and flinch backwards, growling at the ceiling.

‘Yes, yes…’ he sniped towards the door and then in a lower tone, ‘If you weren’t so busy urging us on we might actually make a start.’

Clara burst into nervous giggles as she watched him pass his hand through his hair and ruffle it in irritation. She stepped back towards him and placed her hands on his waist.

‘Take two,’ she said.

‘Right,’ he straightened himself out, put his hands on her shoulders briefly before slipping them down her back and leaning in. They hesitated, eyes locked and she nervously licked her lower lip. He caught the movement and his gaze sparkled, the hint of a smile in the lines of his face, and then he kissed her.

And it wasn’t at all what she expected from the awkward, largely unhuggy, somewhat repressed Time Lord. When she got over the electricity passing through her lips and the way her knees went a little weak when he slipped his tongue into her mouth her first semi articulate thought was ‘wow’ shortly followed by ‘so this is what two thousand years’ experience feels like.’ Clara clutched at his lapels a little frantically and felt him take her weight in one arm as she weakened. He kissed her deeply like that, bending her backwards a little to get a better angle, holding her firm against his body, tangling his free hand in her hair, until he finally released her and she gasped for breath unable to take her eyes from him.

She stared at him. The guy had hidden depths.

He pursed his lips a little, ‘Okay?’ he asked.

‘Um…’

He looked uneasy. ‘I have other techniques if you’d prefer…’ he vaguely gestured around him as though the air was full of possibilities and he just had to pluck one.

‘No… no that was… that was fine,’ Clara said.

Oh God this was going to be really difficult. He was really good. _Really_ good. And she was quite possibly going to lose it, her control, in a shack while being watched by aliens. And while she didn’t mind the idea of losing it with the Doctor per se she was a little afraid of losing it here, in these circumstances, when in truth she had imagined something much more romantic.

He was watching her, his eyes flitting over her face trying to follow the emotions playing there. Clara took a step back towards the bed and hesitantly glanced at it.

‘Should we…?’ she asked.

‘Yes.’

She plopped down, hands in her lap. It suddenly occurred to her that she looked rather prim. She could recline seductively? Or…. Or not. Oh this was impossible, she couldn’t relax. He sat next to her.

‘Clara?’

‘Yes,’ she answered too quickly.

‘Clara… you’re not the only one who’s nervous,’ he said quietly and then paused. She waited. ‘Clara I haven’t done this in a long time… you might say I haven’t done this at all. Not in this body and not in this millennium.’

She felt herself gulp. ‘Oh.’

‘I’m not sure I remember how…’ he mused.

‘I don’t think you forget these things,’ Clara said.

He looked doubtful. ‘I forget a lot, I delete things, the non essentials. And anyway when I’ve done this before I’ve been… different… so it would feel different… from how it’s going to feel now…. I…don’t know if I… I mean it might…’ all of a sudden he fell backwards onto the bed so that he was looking at the ceiling and then covered his face with his hands. He groaned. ‘Rassilon, this is impossible.’

Clara looked at him sympathetically, all this bluster and irritation, all the sniping, he was just scared. He didn’t want to mess it up. Neither did she. They weren’t so different after all. ‘If it’s any help the kiss was fantastic,’ she said.

‘Thanks.’

‘So the rest of it will probably work too.’

‘Not so sure about that. Never tested it.’

‘What not at all?’

‘No.’

‘Not even… you know… on your own?’

He shot her a sharp look. ‘No,’ he said a little stuffily, ‘I have not.’

Clara widened her eyes, ‘You must be pretty pent up.’

A glare.

‘Figures,’ she said, ‘All that tension, no wonder you get a bit grumpy,’ Clara looked round the room while he grumbled beside her. She calculated that a few minutes must have gone by, by now. The guard on the door grunted again and made improper gestures at the pair of them in encouragement. He didn’t look as angry now, she thought, more like some sort of enthusiastic bystander. Probably the most exciting thing he’d seen in years.

Clara looked back at the Doctor, still with face covered. She ran her eyes down the length of his torso, over the layers of jumper and hoodie and coat. God it would take an hour just to get him out of all those clothes. Better make a start. She reached forward and tugged on the hoodie zipper and he startled.

‘What are you doing?’

‘What does it look like?’

He batted her hands away, ‘Leave that alone.’

‘You have too many clothes to be having sex.’

‘I can have sex with clothes on,’ he countered.

‘Shut up, you can not, it’s hard enough to get in the mood here without you being swaddled in fabric.’ She tugged hard until the zipper opened. ‘You need to lose at least three layers, I need to see you.’

His cheeks burned. ‘No, you don’t’

‘Yes I do… or feel you at least…’ she slid her hands under his jumper and stopped suddenly, oh God did she just say that, that she needed to feel the Doctor? Yes, yes she had said that.

‘Humans…’ he muttered defensively.

‘What?’

‘Human’s with your obsession with touch.’

‘Oh don’t start, you’re just saying that to hide your blushes, you’ll enjoy it… you will.’ She looked at him earnestly, hands poised on his stomach.

He stared up at the ceiling for a moment. ‘Well?’ he snapped.

‘Well what?’

‘Well aren’t you going to insist on removing items of clothing?’

He was waiting for her to continue. Clara cautiously pushed his jumper up further to find another layer underneath it and sighed theatrically. ‘I think I’ll die of exhaustion before I find your skin. You do it.’

‘So seductive,’ he said sarcastically as he sat up. In one surprisingly fluid motion he had all four layers off and then fell back across the bed. ‘Happy?’ he asked clearly uncomfortable.

She couldn’t take her eyes off his chest. He was really quite surprisingly toned for an old stick insect, wiry strength evident in the muscles of his shoulders and arms, elegant collarbones like geometry, pale, cool skin and a dusting of silver hair over his breastbone, vanishing on his toned stomach and then re-emerging, a fine trail south. She wrestled with the urge to lean forward and kiss down his abdomen and absently licked her lips. The Doctor cast a look at her.

‘What?’ he asked defensively. Clara dragged her eyes up to meet his.

‘You’re… you’re…’

He raised his eyebrows, ‘What?!’ he repeated with alarm ‘What’s wrong with me?’

‘Nothing you’re… you’re….’ She couldn’t think of a word that was appropriate without being openly wanton so she stood up. ‘Right,’ she said decisively, and took off her top.

The Doctor’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull.

Clara followed it with her skirt and boots and down to her underwear stood next to the bed and flexed her arms as though she were about to dive off a high board at the pool. ‘Clock’s ticking,’ she announced, ‘Let’s go.’

The Doctor sat up cautiously, watched her circle the bed as he unlaced his boots, and swallowed hard as she lay down next to him in only her underwear.

‘What do you want me to…?’ He began, his demeanour swinging wildly from terrified and irritable to nervous and rather sweet. The two thousand year old virgin that wasn’t really virginal.

‘Another kiss would be good.’ She lay back against some pillows and rolled her eyes, ‘Well come on,’ Clara beckoned him up to join her, her own anxiety making her command a little sharp. Slowly he crawled over her, careful not to put his weight on what he no doubt considered her fragile human form, but his body brushed over her and when his skin touched hers she couldn’t resist but to rub against him. She hooked one leg behind his and pulled him near.

‘Ummph,’ he gasped at the sudden sensation of skin on skin. She wondered exactly how long it had been since he felt that and felt suddenly sad. Clara reached up and touched his face gently and was rewarded with the faintest hint of him nuzzling against her fingers.

She could do this. She could ignore the big green dude on the door and focus on the Doctor lying there above her and how close he was, and how strong his body felt. She hadn’t had sex for months, and she’d wanted to move things on between them and now in a strange way was her chance. Maybe this was exactly what they needed, he was so avoidant at other times she had begun to wonder how she would ever raise the idea of sex with him. No. This could be a good thing. An excellent thing. She felt a little tension give and Clara could feel the first stirrings of arousal, barely distinguishable from her general nerves and anxiety, but there nonetheless. She just needed to focus.

The Doctor kissed her again, deep and languid, which helped. When she came up for air she found his hand wrapped round her hip squeezing her bottom and his lips making their way down her neck. Apparently the Doctor wasn’t quite so nervous once he got started. His sudden increase in confidence made her smile, maybe all the thoughts she was having, he was having too.

‘Is this Okay?’ he mumbled against her skin, his lips close to her breast. He tugged her bra down a little.

‘Yes….’

He drew his tongue around one nipple and sucked softly. Clara let out an involuntary moan and squeezed her fingers into his shoulder.

The guard on the door let out a cackling whoop.

Both of them froze.

‘That’s really off putting,’ the Doctor growled.

‘Ignore him. Use your superior Time Lord focus or something.’

Cool lips back on her skin, his hands flowing in smooth lines over her body until he had kissed back up to her lips and held her there like that for a few moments. She began to realise that despite the situation he had the ability to make her feel entirely safe. This close to him it was obvious that he was a good foot taller than her, bigger, stronger, and it seemed to tap into something primitive in her that wanted to be looked after, shielded. Lying there under him the guard on the door could be a million miles away because she had the Doctor to protect her. She was little, feminine, vulnerable…

‘Clara that is such schoolgirl twaddle,’ the Doctor said, voice laced with barely supressed laughter.

‘Are you reading my mind?!’

‘More like your mind is leaking…’

‘I’m just trying to be a bit romantic… help the mood along,’ she bit out defensively. She heard him snort and batted him. ‘I suppose this isn’t the most conventional romantic setting,’ she admitted, a giggle lodged in her throat, ‘But that doesn’t mean I don’t… you know…’

He looked down into her eyes and she saw something flit behind them momentarily, ‘I know,’ he agreed softly, and then the fragile thing was gone. ‘You have a point actually… about the mood…’

‘Oh?’

‘As in I need to get into it for this to work…’ he explained vaguely. Clara squinted at him and he glanced down towards his waist… to below his waist.

‘Oh!’ she said in realisation, ‘Do you… you know need a hand?’

He closed his eyes in despair, ‘I suppose that’s the blunt way of putting it, yes.’

‘Right.’ She laid her hands on his belt buckle and efficiently unclasped it.

‘Do you have to be so business like?’ he complained as she went for the button of his trousers.

‘You were the one mocking me for thinking romantically.’

‘At any other time Clara you would be vehemently denying being little and feminine and needing protection so I think I have the right to…. Oh….’

He stopped his breath caught in his throat. Clara’s hand had made contact with him inside his underwear. She glanced up at his closed eyes. ‘You were saying?’ she mocked.

‘Shut up.’

She began to move her fingers over the still soft flesh, exploring him, touching between his legs, experimentally pressing on areas she knew stimulated human men. ‘What do you like?’ she asked after a moment, ‘Is it different for Time Lords from humans?’

‘How should I know? I’m not an expert in human male anatomy… better with the female….’ He added shutting his eyes.

Clara mused on this, ‘Fair enough….. what gets you going then? Any particular kinks?’

‘Clara, shut up, I’m concentrating.’

She laughed.

‘Clara…’ a warning note.

‘Sorry. Concentrate.’

She continued her soft strokes across his skin and felt him inch closer to her body, nuzzle against her hair. Gently she turned and placed a few kisses on his neck, snaked her other arm across his back and let her fingers trail there. She heard him let out the tiniest of moans.

‘Nice?’ she asked. In response she felt him begin to harden in her palm and slowly increased the pressure of her strokes. The moan that escaped him was a little louder this time. She felt his fingers grip her hip tighter.

‘Clara…’

‘Mmm…’

‘I want you to…’

She waited, almost able to hear how conflicted he was from his breathing. ‘What do you need?’ she asked. He was still growing in her hand, lengthening, hardening and she began to run her fingers fully down the shaft. She wasn’t sure quite what she had been expecting but she certainly wasn’t disappointed with what had appeared down there and she wasn’t convinced it was done increasing in size quite yet. She squeezed and heard him gasp a little, felt him twitch.

Clara squeezed again and tightened her grip pleased with his reaction. ‘What do you need?’ she asked.

‘I want to… I want you to…’

‘Go on…’

‘I want you to let me touch you,’ he said against her shoulder. ‘Please… that’s what… ‘gets me going.’’

She’d thought about that before now, usually alone in her room. The reality was moments from happening, surreal and tantalising. She had wondered how it might feel, his cool fingers on her, his alien-ness. And now he was asking, practically begging her to let him touch, needing it not only for her satisfaction but for his arousal, it was a powerful feeling. Clara took his hand from her hip and guided it down between her legs, she could feel it resting on her knickers, the material growing damp as she stroked him, and scented with her own musk. His fingers traced softly over the flimsy garment for a moment, tugged at the sides. There was no mistaking the request and she nodded assent before he hooked them down and helped her wriggle out of them. Clara closed her eyes, tension in her body, anticipating his next move, not sure how it would feel, how she would respond and then he gently cupped her with his palm. The Doctor turned his face to kiss her again before he continued and hummed against her skin and Clara felt a rush of warmth move over her.

Oh, that was nice.

Holding her to him, his hand covering her sex, gently massaging as his lips kissed the same rhythm against her mouth, Clara could feel herself catching up with his arousal, growing wetter with each caress, more needy of direct contact. She felt his fingers shift and part her, slip experimentally between her folds then dip away again, just catching the barest touch of the hard nub within. Clara hissed against his ear and felt him smile, felt the full hardness of him respond in her palm.

The Doctor repeated the action and allowed a steady rhythm to build now, back and forth, two fingertips exploring her, glancing over her entrance and occasionally penetrating just enough to make her thrust against him. Clara bit her lip. She was well over half way there, he really did know what he was doing, and her mind thought back to his assurance that he could get her to her conclusion easily enough. She hadn’t realised quite how easily. A few more of those well placed strokes and she’d be calling out his name, she wanted to grind her body against his hand, dig her fingers into his back, bite against his neck.

No, way too out of control, she couldn’t. Clara squeezed her eyes shut and tried to mentally back away from the intense feelings in her body. He immediately picked up on it. Bloody telepath.

‘Clara…’ his voice was soothing.

‘No…’ she shook her head, ‘Can’t.’

‘Yes you can…’

‘Alien watching…. Not doing it…’

‘Ignore the alien, well ignore _that_ alien and focus on this one, you were ignoring him fine a minute ago, don’t be so stubborn.’

She shifted under him, still willing away the little spikes of arousal tormenting her sex. And then she shifted back because oh it felt so good, but no, she was getting too close, too fast and she was going to lose it and there was an alien staring through a hatch. The Doctor seemed to pick up on her tumult of loosely linked thought and chuckled against her, his fingers keeping up their treacherously pleasurable pace.

‘This isn’t fair,’ Clara whined.

‘Oh?’

‘How come you’re not losing the plot?’ she ran her hand again down his hard cock and squeezed. The Doctor jerked a little but annoyingly kept his cool.

‘I’m focused on you,’ he said by way of explanation.

‘I thought we both had to be ‘successful,’’ she breathed.

‘We do, I’m just being a gentleman about it and making sure you’re successful first.’

She’d been distracted, distracted by him, and allowed her fingers to become loose in their clasp on his cock, her pace unsteady. Well not so now. Clara pumped him again this time extending the movement into a steady rhythm, each stroke in line with the pace of his fingers at her core. That had the desired effect and she heard his breathing hitch a little in response. Clara circled her hips, in part to move his hand away lest she tip too quickly beyond the point of no return. Holding herself back she shifted her focus to him, feeling his smooth skin slip back and forth over his length, feeling moisture now in her hand and the rough gasp come unheralded from his throat. Clara grinned a little triumphantly and he started thrusting against her grip, his mouth moving away from her lips and his breathing coming faster, strangely cool on her neck.

‘Clara… please…. Slow….’

‘Getting carried away?’ she teased.

‘Trying not to… but it’s…. ah… it’s been a while….’ He was panting now and she could feel a little squirm of adrenaline in her chest at the sight of him, eyes closed, still leaning over her, trousers open, chest bare and heaving. There was a flush on his cheeks and a beading of sweat on his temples and when she glanced down she could make out the dark flush at the tip of his straining cock as he pumped into her fist. She heard him make a strangled whimper and suddenly he grabbed her wrist holding her still, desperately trying to restrain his hips. She gave him a second to regain what composure he could.

‘So… did I manage to get you in the mood OK?’ she asked.

Something like a growl from the Doctor and then he opened his eyes, wide dark pupils stared back at her rimmed in vibrant blue. All trace of mockery fell away from her at the sight and she moaned as his fingers flicked across her sex. She saw him quirk a smile.

‘This is turning into quite the battle of wills,’ he commented.

‘I am the queen of the control freaks. Don’t count your chickens,’ Clara said playfully.

‘I’ve got two thousand years on you, young lady.’

‘A thousand of which you’ve spent celibate from what I can make out… there’s your disadvantage, you’re ready to blow.’

‘On the contrary it has taught me endless patience,’

‘Yeah… looked liked it…’

‘I haven’t even started yet….’ He promised, leaning down a fraction as though to kiss her lips before altering his path and catching her collarbone with his tongue. He snaked a pattern over her chest and Clara wriggled under him, praying he’d slip further down. He caught the thought and kissed her belly, using his hands to push her thighs apart. Telepathic lovers had their advantages it seemed.

He was millimetres from where she wanted him to be when a harsh shout came from the door, jolting him in shock from his goal.

‘For god’s sake!’ Clara complained.

The Doctor glared at the door where the guard made a signal, a grim leer and a rattle at the hatch.

‘Half way through our time,’ the Doctor explained.

‘Already!’ a sudden spill of panic.

‘Already, I have a tendency to overdo the foreplay.’

‘I wouldn’t normally complain.’

‘I suppose we should….’ He looked back at her suddenly uncertain again.

‘Oh…. Um… yes… the main event.’ Clara looked over at the door.

The Doctor hesitated. ‘I feel awful about this,’ he confessed.

‘It’s not your fault.’

‘Well it sort of is… as usual…’

‘Shut up and take your trousers off.’

‘What?!’

‘You’re still half in them, off!’

‘Look I’d rather keep them on if it’s all the same to you.’

‘It isn’t the same to me I want them off.’

The Doctor cocked his head over his shoulder, ‘I don’t want him to see,’ he said quietly, his face a picture of mortification.

‘Oh…’ Clara scrabbled about on the bed, suddenly rather protective of her bashful Doctor, two thousand years old and worried an alien might see his bum, ‘Sheet! Look,’ she tugged, ‘Trousers off, put the sheet over you.’ She tugged it loose off the frame and cast it over him, ‘Must preserve your dignity.’

‘What’s left of it,’ he moaned. He pulled the sheet up his body a little and Clara repositioned herself under him suddenly very aware of his nakedness and his position between his legs. Now all she had to do was ignore the weird audience. And the time limit. And the pressure to climax. And the threat of execution.

‘Stop thinking,’ he said.

‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘Stop doing the telepathy thing.’

‘I can’t, its part of the package when my species… you know…’

‘Oh… ok well… don’t poke about too hard,’ He raised his eyebrows, ‘In my head,’ she said. She felt him shift slightly, nudge against her. ‘Um… do we need to have a talk about contraception,’ Clara asked.

The Doctor looked at her a little disbelievingly. ‘I don’t think they provide that here,’ he said sarcastically.

‘Can I get pregnant?’

‘Yes, actually.’

‘What?’

‘Well you can.’

‘You mean this little adventure could leave me…’

‘It could, it’s not a certainty.’

‘This is ridiculous!’

‘You were fine with it a minute ago.’

‘I didn’t know I could end up carrying a little Time Lord…’

‘Gallifreyan…. He wouldn’t be a time lord, time lord is a rank, Gallifreyan is a species…’

‘Shut up! I just mean it’s a lot to consider.’

‘Clara!’

‘What!?’

He stared at her, the white sheet tenting around them and his weight braced on his arms, she could feel him pressing against her with an urgency driven half by arousal and half by the ticking of the clock.

‘We are in a bit of a jam here,’ he said, glancing at the door, ‘Not to mention I’m finding it increasingly difficult to think. Normally I would of course have a sensible conversation about contraception but if we don’t get on with this soon we’ll be dead so of the two options a little half Gallifreyan offspring is the better one, don’t you think?’

He had a point.

‘Right….’ Clara placed her hands on his shoulders and resumed her business-like manner. The Doctor rolled his eyes. ‘Go on then,’ she encouraged.

He huffed at her, glanced down, ‘A little help?’

‘Oh,’ Clara reached down between them, tilted her hips just so, felt for the tip of him. ‘Oh…’ she said again as he slid into her, his arms moving to hold her to him as his hips withdrew and settled again against hers. ‘Oh… you… feel…’ Clara hissed and closed her eyes.

‘Oh Clara…’ his voice suddenly melted like honey, its timbre deepening, ‘Oh Gods I’ve wanted this… you’ve no idea how much, how long…’

The room just fell away. She felt his tone vibrate through her, his chest against hers, the heavy beats of his hearts and the resonance of his voice filling her and then the acute arousal she had tried so hard to subdue before was back, flaring between her legs with each strong movement of his pelvis. One of his hands moved up to cup her breast, his lips took to her neck and he was murmuring affection against her skin as he thrust.

‘Oh Clara, you’re everything I thought you would be, so beautiful, you feel so right, my darling, I’ve waited for this, I want you so much…’

His pace was already quickening, his breathing ragged in his throat and she could feel his rhythm stuttering, slipping now and then with an anguished little sound following as he fought to hold off. Clara at war with herself, desperate for release but as controlled as ever, aware of the peculiarity of their circumstances but more so of the significance of giving herself to this man entirely. She was vulnerable with him, the one man she trusted, the one man who could hurt her, it would mean everything to let go and have him catch her but after everything, after all this time she wasn’t sure she knew how.

He was struggling now, the muscles in his back giving away how close he was, his skin damp, and then he was reaching down between them, his gentle touch back between her legs and she felt fire come from his cool fingers as he stroked her.

‘Clara, my love, you were so close before, come with me, let me watch you, let me feel you… please.’

She could feel herself burning, tightening around him, a fraction away from release but inhibited by something unseen. Each of his words drew her further but just as she almost reached her destination her doubt drew her back until finally he couldn’t hold off any longer. She felt him try to stop the rapid thrusts of his hips, try to find purchase on the mattress below them to push himself away from her but his body overruled him. One moment he was pleading with her to let go and the next he was ploughing into her with short erratic movements and a cry somewhere between joy and shame.

‘Ah… Clara….Gods… No…. I’m sorry…. Oh... _Clara_!’

And his one arm tightened around her, seizing her to him as he convulsed while his other hand pushed hard against her sex.

And she was there, coming hard with a jerk into his body, driving down onto his still hard cock. Her scream was feral in its tone, her nails digging hard into his back, raking through his hair as she rode up into his embrace. Clara squeezed her eyes tight and allowed her body to dictate the pace and strength of each thrust until finally the waves of pleasure died down and she was left panting under him.

After a moment the Doctor summoned enough energy to lever himself up over where she still lay recovering and look into her eyes. She’d never seen him quite as dishevelled and bit back a laugh.

‘Please don’t mock me,’ he said only half seriously. ‘I’ve just saved our lives.’

‘ _We_ have saved our lives… we…’

‘Yes… alright…we… together…’ he glanced over his shoulder and Clara was dimly aware of the sound of the door opening and some alien speech from beyond. She distinctly thought she could hear applause too,

‘It would appear we have satisfied their gods,’ the Doctor translated.

‘Go us.’

‘We are now welcome to stay for the rest of the festivities.’

Clara considered this and immediately ruled it out. ‘Might just be safer to go home? I mean I wouldn’t want there to be any more mix ups. The next one might not be so easily fixed with a bit of rumpy pumpy.’

‘ _Rumpy pumpy_?’ he repeated distastefully.

‘Yeah you know… se….’

‘I know what it is…. But surely you don’t consider what we just did to be ‘rumpy pumpy?’ I mean that just sounds so… so… Oh I don’t know. None of today has turned out quite how I planned. ‘

Clara reached up and smoothed back some unruly curls. ‘Can we go now?’ she asked with a soft smile, ‘Go back to the TARDIS, regroup, maybe hop forward two hundred years and have a spa?’

He looked at her warily for a moment, ‘What if I hit the wrong co-ordinate again? Land us in trouble?’

‘Hmm you’re right, can’t risk it, your slippy finger might slip again and we might be forced to have great sex to save our lives.’ Clara got up from the bed and started pulling her clothes on, ‘No, I think we should skip straight to the sex… save time.’

‘Time’s not really a problem when you have a Time Machine, we could always…’ the Doctor started, missing the point entirely as usual.

Clara glared at him, ‘You never learn do you…. ‘

He smirked and put on his shirt.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
